


Impact

by RetroactiveCon



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Dom Mick Rory, Dom/sub, Held Down, M/M, Non-Sexual Kink, Pre-Canon, Spanking, Sub Leonard Snart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:13:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25074427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RetroactiveCon/pseuds/RetroactiveCon
Summary: “I have to stay in control.”“Well, you can’t.” Mick presses down against Len’s wrists to draw his attention to how trapped he is. Len’s got no way out and no way to stay in control. He has a perfect view of the panic in his partner’s eyes as Len realizes that. “’Cause I’m not gonna let you.”“I have to!” Len shouts. He’s not making any effort to hide his fear now; his voice is higher and more desperate than Mick’s ever heard it, and his eyes are only half focused.“No, you don’t.” Mick rubs his thumb over Len’s bony wrist. “I gotcha. Let go.”
Relationships: Mick Rory/Leonard Snart
Comments: 8
Kudos: 112





	Impact

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SophiaCatherine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophiaCatherine/gifts), [blueelvewithwings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueelvewithwings/gifts).



> For the delightful SophiaCatherine and the inspirational blueelvewithwings, who talked me through writing my first-ever Coldwave, embracing sub!Len, and leaning more into nonsexual kink. I hope you enjoy!

Mick knows something is up when Len spends the day snapping at him. Nothing has happened that he’s aware of, but Len gets like this sometimes, twitchy and irritable and in need of grounding. He does his best to ignore it. Most days he’s successful, but today his head is none too quiet either, and Len’s snapping is the final straw.

“ _Mick!_ ” Len’s voice splits the air like the crack of shattering ice. It jolts Mick out of the relative calm he’d found staring at the leaping flames in the fireplace. He’s on his feet before he realizes he’s moving, hands balled into fists. “Answer me when I ask you a question!”

“Okay,” Mick growls. He’s sick and tired of the attitude Len’s got going on today, and the only way he can think to give him a swift attitude adjustment involves being physical. With Len in this mindset, it’s likely to start a fight, but that might be what they both need. “That’s it. You might be the boss, but right now you’re acting like the punk kid who almost got himself killed in juvie.”

Len bristles. “ _Punk kid?_ ” he demands incredulously. “Punk kid, when my plans are the only reason you’re alive? _I'm_ the boss, and that means you fucking answer me when I talk to you.”

It’s too much. Mick grabs him around the waist, tosses him down onto the couch, clambers on top of him, and pins him in place. “That’s enough.”

Len squirms like a furious cat. He’s strong, but he’s got no chance now that Mick controls all the leverage. He can sit here and wait until Len wears himself out.

“Let me up, you fucking bastard!” There’s a twinge of fear in Len’s voice that reminds Mick how young his partner is. Len puts on a good show of control, but it’s only because he’s learned the hard way what happens if he doesn’t. Mick’s the only one in his life (except maybe Lisa) who doesn’t buy it—and right now, he realizes, that’s exactly what Len needs.

“And what are you gonna do if I don’t?”

Len’s mouth gapes open. It seems to have never crossed his mind that Mick might not listen to his ill-tempered demands. Within a few seconds, he’s composed himself enough to snarl, “Kick your ass, is what I’ll do,” but those few seconds are telling. 

“Nah, you won’t.” Mick shifts his weight so Len has less room to squirm. He thrashes more, like Mick thought he would, but he can’t move very much. Mick sees the near-imperceptible widening of his eyes. His partner is terrified. “’Cause you know you can’t. You gotta be in control all the time, don’tcha? Gotta call the shots ‘cause you fear what happens if you don’t?”

“Get _off!_ ” Len throws all his strength into a whole-body heave against Mick, but he hasn’t got enough leverage to shove him off. Mick shifts a little bit but otherwise stays steady.

“You only control me ‘cause I let you.” Mick continues as though Len never spoke. He’s gotta get it through his little partner’s brain that it’s okay to let go. “And right now I’m not gonna let you. ‘S not what you need right now.”

“Of course it is!” Len’s voice breaks. He’s closer to the breaking point than Mick thought. He’s been clamoring for Mick to take control from him all day—Mick just didn’t notice until now. “I have to stay in control.”

“Well, you can’t.” Mick presses down against Len’s wrists to draw his attention to how trapped he is. Len’s got no way out and no way to stay in control. He has a perfect view of the panic in his partner’s eyes as Len realizes that. “’Cause I’m not gonna let you.”

“I have to!” Len shouts. He’s not making any effort to hide his fear now; his voice is higher and more desperate than Mick’s ever heard it, and his eyes are only half focused. 

“No, you don’t.” Mick rubs his thumb over Len’s bony wrist. “I gotcha. Let go.”

There’s a moment where Len teeters on the edge of surrendering, his whole body wound so tight Mick is afraid he’ll shatter before he gives in. Then, with a sigh that seems to come from the deepest anxious parts of him, he melts into the couch.

“There,” Mick soothes. He shifts his weight so he’s not pressing down quite as much. Len looks almost surprised by the movement, as though he hadn’t noticed how much Mick was still trying to hold him down. “Are you in control?”

Len sighs and murmurs, “No.” A little more tension seeps out of his shoulders.

“Who is?”

He’s not ready for the cracked-open, needy look in Len’s eyes when he confesses, “You are.”

“Good.” Mick keeps rubbing his wrist. Len’s arms have gone loose and relaxed; there’s no longer any resistance to his hold. Mick could probably get up and he’d stay in place, but he doesn’t want to leave Len even for a second. “What are you?”

“Helpless.” The admission makes Len’s face twist like there’s a knife in his gut (and Mick’s seen that happen). 

“Try again. What are you?”

“Weak.” Len’s voice is heavy. Mick rethinks his tactics. Making Len feel guilty for losing control wasn’t his goal; he just wanted to show him that it’s okay to let go for a little bit. 

“No. Cared for.”

Len lets out a weary little scoff. “Cared for? I’ve been horrible to you.”

“Yeah,” Mick agrees. “And I’m gonna teach you a lesson for that, but first I wanna hear you say it. What are you?”

Len looks too worn down to fight. “Cared for,” he mumbles. He doesn’t sound like it’s sticking very well, but that’s okay. Mick will get him there. 

“What are you?” 

Len gives a longsuffering sigh. “Cared for. If you’re going to beat me up, can we move to that?”

“Not gonna beat you up.” Mick gets up, picks Len up like an unruly kitten, and sits down with Len on his lap, facedown in the cushions. Immediately, Len starts squirming. 

“What are you doing, I don’t…”

“Said I’d teach you a lesson.” Mick grabs both of Len’s wrists and pins them in the small of his back. Len squirms again, then goes limp the same way he had when he figured out he was trapped. Mick can’t tell if it’s defeat or if he’s genuinely relaxing into Mick’s control. “You ever been spanked?”

“No,” Len scoffs. 

Mick thinks. “Say ‘Keystone’ and I’ll stop. Otherwise, I’ll keep going until you’ve learned your lesson.”

Len twitches. After a moment, when Mick doesn’t let him up, he mumbles, “Deal.”

Mick starts off gently. As much as he wants to deliver a strong swat to jolt away the last of Len’s composure, he knows better. His little partner is gonna need eased into this or he’ll shut down. 

After the first few relatively light spanks, Mick asks, “What are you?”

“A prickly bastard.” Len’s tone is defensive again. Mick thought he was past that, but apparently not. “That’s why I’m getting my ass beaten, right?”

Mick punishes him with a significantly harder swat that finally jolts a yelp from his lips. “Wrong.”

After another few spanks, he tries again. “What are you?”

“Not in control,” Len says. He sounds too much like he knows what answer Mick wants and is doing his best to get out of saying it. Mick gives him another hard swat—he clearly knows why. 

“Better. Still wrong.”

Suspecting Len needs it, Mick spanks him harder. Each spank jolts little whimpers or mewls from him. It’s good to hear him so vocal when, despite his tendency for talk, he’s good at keeping quiet when it matters. If Mick’s any good at reading him, it means he’s closer to surrender than Mick would have expected at this point.

“What are you?” he asks again. 

“ _Pathetic!_ ” Len bursts out. He buries his face in the couch cushion, but not before Mick hears a bitter, broken sob.

“Pathetic?” Mick is confused for a second—his unwavering Boss has been hiding self-doubt that’s this bad? Then he remembers the scrawny fourteen-year-old who’d looked like he was twelve, the way he’d lit up when Mick called his plans clever and curled into his rare touches when he thought no one could see. Len is a lot less sure of himself than he pretends to be. Sure, he knows his skills—doubt in that area’s a killer—but his worth? He has no idea. “How are you pathetic?”

“I have to be in control.” The words are gasped out between hitching sobs. His voice doesn’t waver when he speaks, just stays watery around the edges. Even now, he’s trying his best to cling to his last shreds of control. Mick keeps spanking him, doing his best to break his partner’s walls down beyond his flimsy efforts at repair. “I can’t give it up, I can’t _want_ to give it up, but I do and I’m pathetic and-and-and…”

“Don’t ever say that.” Mick brings his hand down hard enough to make Len yelp and give a little, uncontrollable kick. “You’re not pathetic for wanting to let go. That’s normal. That’s why I’m here.”

“I c-can’t,” Len sobs. He burrows his face into the couch cushion until his sobs are muffled. Mick lets go of his wrists so he can stroke Len’s back. Len’s arms fall limply at his sides; he makes a feeble effort to raise the one that’s drooping off the edge of the couch and barely manages to bring it up by his face. Mick clucks his tongue. 

“Don’t hide from me,” he scolds, punctuating the reproach with a few more, slightly gentler spanks. “Got no reason to. You’re not pathetic, and you don’t need to stay in control all the time. You’re my partner, and I gotcha. You can let go.”

Len keeps sobbing. There’s no attempt to restrain himself, no effort to hide; he just stays limp in Mick’s lap and takes his punishment. 

“What are you?” Mick asks again.

“C-cared for.” It’s the barest mumble into the cushion, but it makes Mick gentle his hits. He delivers the last few as light taps, giving Len some time to cool down without stopping abruptly.

“What are you?” he asks again, switching from cooldown taps to light, soothing rubbing. 

“Cared for.” Len sounds congested and deeply exhausted—not the longsuffering weariness after their earlier wrestling, but completely drained. Mick pulls him gently up into his lap, wraps him in his arms, and rocks him slowly back and forth. 

“That’s right,” he murmurs. “You’re cared for. You’re mine, and I take care of what’s mine.”

Len wraps his arms around Mick’s neck and buries his face in his shoulder. His next “Cared for” is just a mumble, as though he’s too worn out or drifty to speak.

“Don’t fall asleep on me just yet.” Mick scoops him up. It’s not as easy as it used to be (once upon a time, he could—and did—throw Len over his shoulder anytime, for any reason) but he’s still able to carry him over and dump him facedown on the bed. Before Len can complain, he lays down next to him and throws an arm over his waist. “I’m supposed to take care of you.”

Len opens one drowsy eye. “Can’t it wait?” he mumbles. With a tired little laugh, he adds, “I’m gonna wake up with a headache—always do when I cry. Got anything for that?”

“Yeah, a glass of water before you sleep.” It comes out more gruffly than Mick means it to. He’s not sure he wants to leave Len just yet—he’s never seen his partner this soft and clingy before. Len will be hurt if he leaves, and somewhat selfishly, Mick wants to stay with this newly clingy Len as long as he can.

Len shakes his head and shifts closer to Mick. “Rather have you. We can deal with it later.”

Mick runs his fingers over Len’s tearstained face. “Gonna care for you,” he promises. “Like I said I would.”

Len manages a slow, dazed smile. “I know.”

He falls asleep almost immediately. Mick waits until he’s soundly asleep and drooling on the pillow to risk getting up. He brings a water bottle and a bag of chocolate chips to the bedside; he also brings an ice pack for Len's backside. Len kept his clothes on for the duration of the spanking, and Mick doubts he’d appreciate being undressed even if it involved lotion on his sore ass; the ice pack seems the next best option.

Len actually purrs when Mick settles the ice pack over his jeans. Why his weird little partner likes the cold is beyond him, but Mick can’t help feeling a little glow of pride at how it soothes him even in his sleep. 

“Told you,” he murmurs, settling back down on the bed. “Gonna take care of you. For now, just sleep.”

They end up both sleeping. This is fine by Mick. After a day like they’ve had, they could both do with a nap.


End file.
